500 Times Earth's Gravity
by Queen Elenya Hawk
Summary: One-shot. Waiting for the day the androids would show up, Bulma woke up on one of her first weeks of pregnancy to find herself confronting two major problems: Yamcha's surprising death in the gravity chamber and Vegeta's decision to leave Earth.


Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball nor any of its characters. They belong solely to Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. However, any dream I have in which I own Vegeta is purely unintended, though very much welcome.

500 G

Bulma entered the kitchen that morning to make some well deserved breakfast. It had been a good night of sleep and she needed the boost to begin her day. She had decided to wear white denim shorts and a pretty, pink embroidered top. She opened the cabinet to grab her favorite coffee cup.

"Don't," a male voice took her by surprise.

She turned around and found Vegeta standing against the counter. "Hey, I hadn't noticed you were here."

She'd sensed him waking up with a start unusually early, but hadn't given it another thought. It was like him to leave her bed when it was still dark, to immerse himself into the rigorous sessions that had become his routine. It now called her attention, though, that he was dressed in his casual clothes, black trousers and a short sleeve blue shirt, instead of his jumpsuit.

"Sit down," he motioned to the nearest chair. She raised an eyebrow questioningly but did as she was told, and once she was supported by the piece of furniture he pronounced what followed. "I'm telling you right now, what happened has nothing to do with me."

She rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. "Well, what is it that happened?" He had probably broken something or he wouldn't be there wasting precious training time.

He searched for the words, but came up with nothing but the plain truth. "He's dead."

She eyed him cautiously, not liking what she was hearing but wanting to know more about it. "Who's dead?"

"The one you used to be with."

A wave of heat rapidly hit her. She searched in his eyes for a hint of a lie, but found nothing but unwavering frankness. "Wha- ...how?"

"Squashed... by the pressure." She quickly put the pieces together and understood what he'd meant. "There," he said, as his thumb pointed over his shoulder and towards the spacecraft that was visible through the kitchen window, confirming her suspicions.

She stood up intent on going to the courtyard, but he blocked her way. "I wouldn't go if I were you."

She shivered. Was it that bad? It couldn't be, everything was occurring so fast that this whole situation still felt unreal. But she had to find out on her own. She wouldn't accept it until she was sure of it. Everything in the world she had to see, hear, touch. She was an adventurer kind of scientist, and the morbid curiosity easily blinded the pain, as a much needed escape.

She straightened her resolve and lifted her head. "Please, Vegeta," she said indignantly. "I've seen horrible things in the past, believe me. This won't creep me out."

"Really."

She slightly wondered whether he was questioning her resolve or insisting on her not going, but she didn't care much. With a mind gone blank to conceal her burning grief, she walked past him, approached the open gate of Capsule 3 and rushed in. Her air of superiority crushed against a wall, however, when she gasped in horror at the sight that greeted her.

_Now_ it was real. Now she knew trying to fool herself wasn't going to help anymore. The shock, the sorrow and her physical condition, all mixed and turned against her as the nausea arrived, a sensation she had been getting for the last week or so. She twisted and covered her mouth, striving so nothing came out to join the gore on the floor.

"I warned you," Vegeta said casually, now standing next to her.

"I can handle it," she answered obstinately, while unable to look away from a seemingly very interesting spot she had found on the far wall to her right.

"It's a good thing you haven't had breakfast."

She considered his comment and sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

Once realization was no longer avoidable, the anguish started to take its toll on her.

"This can't be happening," she moaned after a minute, as she fought back the tears that were threatening to fall, her hands one over the other on her chest.

"You'd better believe what you see," Vegeta told her. But his expression wasn't reflecting hers, he seemed calm about it.

"Are you sure he's d-"

"Yes," he interrupted.

"Oh, my God," she whined and turned to his side, pressing her eyes shut.

"I don't know why you even ask. It's quite obvious."

She couldn't hold it anymore, she started to cry. She clung onto Vegeta's arm and buried her face in it, allowing the tears to flow. Vegeta frowned in disgust but didn't move away, something resembling pity surging inside of him. Surging for Bulma, that is. Not for the corpse he was staring at. The man didn't deserve that feeling from the saiyan prince.

"What the hell was he thinking?" he heard her ask with a broken voice.

"Does it matter?"

She took a deep breath. "I talked to him on the phone last night. I told him the news…" her voice trailed off.

"This was not your fault."

"But if I hadn't told him-"

"Woman, this was _not_ your fault. And he would have found out sooner or later."

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "I knew he sounded kind of disappointed. I'm going to be stronger than Vegeta, he said. Just you wait and see, he said..."

Vegeta snickered. "That fool. If he thought he could ever have a chance against me, he must have been really fucked up in the head." He smirked. "And now he literally lost his brain."

"Oh, shut up!" She pushed him strongly with anger, but to no avail. He stood in his place. Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her in amusement. "He didn't want to surpass you, you idiot. He just wanted to impress me."

He snorted. "Well, that he did."

"He thought he could have me back."

Vegeta's face darkened. "As I said. He was a fool."

Bulma looked into the depths of his coal-black eyes, not believing the coldness and egocentricity in his words. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I should-"

"No, you shouldn-"

"But I'm not," he finished.

She kept her eyes on his, waiting for a longer response, asking for an explanation.

"Look at all this mess," he told her. "He could have thrown himself off a cliff and spare me the waste of time. It will take a while to clean the floor and I refuse to train in here until it is done."

There was a pool of blood around the body, mixed with a pale, gelatinous substance that had slipped out of his broken head.

"He didn't commit suicide, Vegeta. This was an accident. He didn't know the number displayer was malfunctioning."

The previous day, Vegeta had informed her of the glitch in the system. One that didn't need urgent repair since it didn't affect the rest of the functions. The amount of gravity applied was displayed with one less number than it was actually asked for. Yamcha could have been able to take the weight of fifty times Earth's normal gravity. But five hundred, it had been lethal.

"But he _did_ know that he was not allowed to use the simulator." She lowered her head, she could not deny it. "And look at you," he continued. "You shouldn't be going through any distress in your state, it's not good for your health. But here you are, suffering over this useless human, risking the life of my kid."

It suddenly struck her that Vegeta was right. Her hands rested protectively on her stomach. Damn Yamcha! She was in no condition to dwell on this: the affliction could harm her pregnancy. But she couldn't help it, he was still her friend and his tragic death saddened her terribly. She was caught by another wave of tears.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Quit whining already, woman. You're bringing him back."

Bulma gasped and blinked a couple of times, her complains coming to a halt. After a while, she said, "It hadn't crossed my mind yet."

He frowned. "You can't let your feelings cloud your thoughts, Bulma. It could get you killed." She nodded once. Vegeta sniffed the air and winced. "Let's get out of here, it stinks." He walked away but she hesitated about following him. Finally she grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"Wait, we can't leave him here."

"Fine, go ahead and make him some company. Read him a book while you're at it."

She ignored his sarcasm and her eyes grew big as she came up with an idea. "Please, don't move. I'll be back in a minute," she told him as she turned to the exit.

"Where are you going?"

"Just hold on!" she screamed as she ran towards the house.

Vegeta groaned. Now he was left alone with the carcass of her ex-boyfriend. Great.

It wouldn't hurt if he cut off Yamcha's head, now would it? He's already dead anyway. Too bad Bulma wouldn't appreciate the act.

He walked to the body and poked him with his boot. There were still many methods he could imply to torture the loser with the woman being none the wiser. Breaking some bones sounded as a good option, but the crash against the floor caused by the highly elevated gravity had already beaten him to it. Ripping out his eyes or pushing them deeper into his head would be fine. She wouldn't notice. She was too curious for her own good but she was no sadist. Vegeta knew Bulma hadn't been able to _really_look at Yamcha, to observe him in all his pathetic glory. She wouldn't want the image to haunt her dreams.

No, this would be no fun. He hated the weakling, despised him. But where was the satisfaction in tormenting an unresponsive body? Sure enough, Yamcha wanted to be better than Vegeta, but the saiyan had won the war far before it even started. As if this human could represent any kind of threat to him, in any aspect. It wasn't worth it.

"What are you doing?" a feminine voice came from behind him.

He turned around to face her and shrugged; he was getting bored. Bulma shortened some of the distance between them and took a hoi poi capsule from her pocket. She pushed its button and threw it to the air. A heavy, large recipient came into view.

She opened the case, looked at Vegeta, and waited. For what, he didn't know.

"What?" he barked.

"Can you put him inside?" He jerked his head to the side. "Please?"

He sighed. "Hn. Just so we can get this over with."

He cooperated with her request and turned to her former lover again. Helping by moving the body disturbed him, but not as much as he'd thought it would.

As soon as he finished, Bulma reduced the coffin back to its capsule form and put it inside her pocket. They both left the mournful scene and relished the sunlight over their bodies as they stepped on the grass. It was almost insulting how everything seemed to be alright with the world; the colorful flowers in the garden, the sound of children laughing on the streets and the lovely weather, all oblivious to the man lying lifeless within the compound. Ignoring the insolence of nature, Bulma handed Vegeta the Dragon Radar.

"What is this?"

"You know what it is."

"I didn't ask for it."

"No, _I'm_ asking _you_. Can you please go look for the Dragon Balls?"

"Hah. I couldn't care any less if he stays dead, you know."

"But, Vegeta, I care. He's my friend," she said, and she circled her arms around his neck. "Do you want _me_ to go by myself to who knows where, being so many dangers out there? Would you let me go alone and risk two lives at once?"

Vegeta glared at her, wanting to tell her that he didn't care, but feeling unable to.

"Besides," she continued. "You could be back in a few hours, but me... It could take me weeks. I'll make sure the ship is cleaned and the number displayer repaired by the time you're back, I promise."

He stared at the artifact on his palm, the one thing which could grant him power, immortality, anything that he desired.

"What makes you think I won't use the Dragon Balls for my own wish?"

"You won't. I trust you."

Somehow, it bothered him. Not long ago he had been the nightmare of millions, many even feared to mention his name. He was the synonym of evil, of senseless violence, showing no respect for the innocents, betraying no signs of mercy. And she _trusted_him. Nobody had ever done that before. And she dared. He himself was unfamiliarized with the concept. Still, as much as it annoyed him, he found that he liked, if only a little, to be the object of her trust.

Bulma kissed him, momentarily forgetting what had put her in such a distressed mood in the first place. He responded to her gesture, discovering the mixed taste of her dried, bitter tears on her ever-sweet lips. But his kiss was nothing similar to the ones he had given her the night before: it lacked the passion.

She didn't mention the fact that there was nothing for him to ask Shen Long anymore. All he had wanted eternal life for was to resist in a battle against Freeza to finally defeat him. He wouldn't ask to become a Super Saiyan either. He was soon going to reach that goal naturally, the way Goku had done. Going the easy way would be cheating on himself, and he was too proud for that.

Everything else was within his reach. The universe was his to do as he pleased. Anytime he could have left Earth to never return. But he chose to stay at Capsule Corporation, training to help destroy the androids, waiting for a rematch with his rival. And he would probably stay afterwards.

He had no need for wishes.

He broke the kiss, his eyes cold, as well as his voice. "I have no intention of reviving him once I'm done searching for the Dragon Balls, I'll leave that up to you."

"That's fine."

"I want you to wait until I'm gone, though."

"Gone where?"

"I'm leaving Earth."

He had to get away from the planet. Away from Bulma and everything that was nothing but a nuisance to him. This recent incident was just another distraction among many that had been preventing him from training. He would never become a Super Saiyan if he stayed, surrounded by her idiot parents and being a constant victim of her bitching, now increased tenfold courtesy of the consequences of unprotected sex. Some peace and isolation would do him good. He would be free from having to restrain his power when releasing it inside the chamber, unburdening himself from the responsibility of being careful for the sake of the house and its inhabitants.

Her heart constricted, fear and desperation fused into one silent cry. But she put in a lot of effort so it didn't show. "Why?"

"I will not tolerate any more interruptions to my training. If you don't want to die by the time the androids come, I suggest you don't try stopping me."

_So he's coming back_, she thought relieved. He would return to fight the androids and defend her, but would he eventually return to her?

"Well, good riddance of the pregnant lady, is that it?"

"You said it yourself," he responded not too humorously.

"So you're leaving me alone, knowing Yamcha will be around? I might need some company in the following months," she warned.

He loathed the idea of the weakling wanting to recuperate what he'd lost. He would most likely try to talk Bulma into getting rid of the saiyan and going back to him. Boring scene as ever, Vegeta had witnessed it twice already, just to relish the pain and deception plastered all over the other man's face.

The prince responded to no one, he belonged to no one. But the heiress was his. Only his. His to cherish, his to protect. And most importantly, exclusively his to touch. That who dared lay a single finger on her hair shall perish. He wasn't jealous; he was possessive. Although it hadn't been his fault, Vegeta, in the wicked chaos that was his mind, thought that this unfortunate event was just some kind of divine justice, for the baseball player had died with the intention of taking something that was Vegeta's property. So why undo something that has been so cleverly done by fate? It made no sense. She made no sense, but he had claimed her as his, and it would always remain that way.

What preoccupied Vegeta was not her past with that failure of a fighter, but the near future. A future in which Yamcha would be alive, on Earth, sharing the same air as Bulma and he, prince of all saiyans, would be in outer space. He would not be present to control the moronic human, who had probably still not gotten used to the idea that he was out of the game, but he did believe that Bulma would be smart enough to make him see straight during her upcoming child's father's absence. It was the only alternative he could count on, anyway.

"I'll have to trust you," he said to her.

She grew a smile and her features slowly lightened up. Her right hand rested on his cheek, but it barely lasted a moment, for he stepped away from her and turned on the radar. The first Dragon Ball was not too far from them.

"I suppose you're leaving tonight?"

"Yes."

"Shall I wait for you with dinner before you take off?"

He smirked. "Why not?" he responded, before his tone turned serious. "I expect the ship to be ready by then."

She rolled her eyes. "First, we've already established that."

"Good."

"And second, you don't talk to me like that. I'm not your servant."

"No, but you're my hostess, and as such you have to see to my every need."

"Your concepts of hospitality are wrong, and I'm positive I have said this before, but I'm going to repeat it: this is your home now, your place to come back to. Therefore, I'm not even your hostess anymore."

He huffed and glared at her, and then turned around to prepare to fly, but she stopped him in time.

"Vegeta!" He looked at her and waited for her to speak. "Don't take _too_ long or you'll find me asleep, and your little trip will have to wait 'till tomorrow. You know I need more rest, now," she winked at him.

"Hmph." He nodded in acknowledgement, and finally flew off.

Bulma followed his trace until he disappeared from view. She then realized that Vegeta hadn't woken her up the instant he learned about Yamcha's fall. He'd allowed her to rest as much as she needed, having paid great attention when she told him she was feeling awfully tired those days due to her being on her first weeks of pregnancy. She closed her eyes and softly embraced her belly.

"He'll be back, don't you worry about it," she whispered, more to convince herself than to her baby; she still had her doubts. "Everything will be alright."

She entered the building and ordered a robot to clean the gravity chamber. And she had thought this would be some glorious morning...

* * *

It was past midnight when Vegeta touched ground in the front yard. He found Bulma inside, sitting on the couch in front of the television. There was some romance movie being broadcast. He touched her shoulder, and she jumped in fright at the unexpected contact.

"Oh, you're back," she said when she finally saw him. "What have I told you about not waking expecting women up?"

"Weren't you watching something?"

She raised her eyebrows for a split second in confusion until she realized the screen behind her was still on. "Oh," she grabbed the remote control and turned it off. "I must have fallen asleep at some point."

"Your radar," he once again gained her attention, and handed the object to her. "The Dragon Balls are outside."

"Were they hard to find?"

"Tsk," he dismissed.

"Thank you, Vegeta. This means a lot to me," she said smiling.

"I've done my part, how about you?"

"The spaceship is even cleaner than it had been before, and everything works perfectly. It was pretty awful to be there again, though."

"Hn. So I can take off already?"

"Uh, but we were going to eat together," she reminded him, disappointment clear on her face.

"Haven't you had dinner yet?"

"I'd said I'd wait."

He blinked. "Fine."

They sat opposite to each other at the round wooden table. As soon as the food was served on the china plates, they both started to gobble it up. It was normal for Vegeta, but Bulma hadn't been aware of how hungry she'd been until then, besides the fact that she was now eating for two. She observed him for a moment, and she just knew that it was going to be hard to be separated from him.

"Puar called a couple of hours ago," she attempted for a conversation.

"Who?" he asked between bites. The meat on Earth was a delight he had really come to appreciate.

"Puar, Yamcha's friend. You know, the floating cat?"

"Oh, that annoying thing."

She cleared her throat lightly to point out her disapproval. Puar was her friend, too. "Anyway, he was worried about Yamcha and asked me if I hadn't seen him all day. Of course I said I hadn't, but it was weird to lie to him."

"Why didn't you say the truth?"

"Are you kidding? He would have rushed here in no time to cry until my ears exploded. There's no way I'd have allowed that." Vegeta snickered. "Besides, Yamcha is going to be brought back soon, so why make Puar suffer?"

"If you say so."

She smiled. "My parents will be sad to know you're gone when they come back from their conference trip, tomorrow."

"Too bad," he said in a tone that clearly stated that he didn't care.

A tiny bit later, she continued. "Vegeta, try to be careful when you train. If you break anything I won't be there to fix it."

"Hmh."

"I'll communicate with you every once in a while-"

"No," he cut her words. "I don't want any interruptions."

"Well, how am I supposed to make sure that you're alright?"

"You're forgetting I'm the prince of the saiyans, and not some weakling human whose bones can crash with ease."

She winced at the reminder of what had taken place only hours ago. Why did he have to mention it? Why did he always have to ruin her mood? And worse, wasn't he interested in knowing how _she_ would be doing with her pregnancy ?

Upset, she decided to make the last question, the one that had been wandering in her mind ever since she knew he would leave.

"Will you be here when I'm due?"

He stopped eating to look at her. "We'll see," he answered gravely, and then went back to his food.

The rest of the meal was filled with tense silence. She was weary and didn't feel like arguing. Instead, she imagined what his reaction would be later on when she got in touch with him despite his wishes. There would be no way for him to turn off the big screen unless the whole ship exploded; she had made it Vegeta-proof.

When he was satisfied, the mighty prince rised from his place on the table, pulling Bulma out of her musings. He walked towards the door that divided the kitchen from the garden, but she moved faster and immediately stood before him.

"Why the hurry?" she asked flirtatiously. She had given up her annoyance at him for something that she deemed now of more importance.

He half smiled. "Are you trying to keep me here? Because it won't work."

"The spaceship isn't going anywhere without you, you know?" she teased as she lay a hand on his chest, the other one playing with his hair.

He sighed. "What do you want?"

"Stay a little longer, Vegeta," she whispered.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Just a little," she pleaded, her lips now hovering an inch away from his.

It was infuriating how much power she held over him. But every time, he gave in. What with those bright, cerulean eyes of hers it was impossible not to. He devoured her mouth, holding her pressed to him. The more he drank in her love for him, the thirstier he got; she was that addictive. The kiss got deeper by the second, and more intimate, flaring up the fire in a heartbeat. Her hands had found their way under his shirt, and she rubbed his back and stroke his ribs, to end up sliding her fingers through the lines that divided the muscles of his perfectly sculpted six-pack abdomen. He barely suppressed a grunt of pleasure and pushed his pelvis against hers, and she took it as a sign to move forward. He felt her groping for the zipper of his pants, but in a sudden change of mind he held her wrists and halted her.

"No," he uttered huskily.

Her eyes grew big in shock. "No? What do you mean, _no_? You can't say no to me!" she protested in frustration.

Amused by her childish response, Vegeta burst out laughing.

"Vegeta!" she hissed blushing.

"Watch me," he defied her. "This just shows how spoiled you are, so unaccustomed to being rejected."

She huffed. "Well, I didn't hear you complaining a minute ago."

"It's not my fault that you can't keep your hormones at bay."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief, and he saw a tantrum coming his way. But he wouldn't stand up to it, not this time. "Calm down," he tried to distract her. "When I get back, I'll show you what a Super Saiyan can do," he promised confidently.

He realized his tactic of consolation had succeeded when he saw her giggling girlishly, free of worries.

_He w__ill come back, alright_. It was all she needed to know.

"Come on, I have to get out of this mud-ball of a planet," he said as he opened the door.

"My planet is beautiful," she retorted while welcoming the fresh, nightly breeze.

"Yeah, sure."

She ignored his last comment when they reached the gigantic, white sphere that had been designed after Raditz's space-pod. Vegeta got in and Bulma entered behind him; he vaguely wondered if she would ever cease to stalk him.

"I must unlock the system so you can use it," she explained as if she'd read his thoughts, but that explanation required another. "I wouldn't have let you go without saying goodbye."

He shook his head. "I should have known," he concluded as he watched her type in some password to the main computer.

A short but loud beeping sound was heard as she turned to face him. "Done!" she chirped happily.

"Finally," he grunted.

She frowned. "But it just took me like ten seconds."

"I mean, finally, I can go now."

"Oh..." she lowered her sight, but just as quickly regained her composure. "Well, that's being rude, Vegeta."

He folded his arms. "Is it?"

"Yes, because it was a totally unnecessary comment, and it's not nice to know that you'd rather be somewhere else."

"Maybe I just want to get away from _you_."

"And maybe I hope you crash against a star or something and never come back."

"Be careful with your words, woman. They may come true and you'd regret them."

"Actually, I think I'd be glad!"

"Then disappear from my view so I can take off and _crash_ already!"

"Fine!" she shouted on his face.

She walked past him with her head up high in the direction to the exit, but when she got there she didn't disembark the ship. She turned to him again, and smirked when she noticed he was staring at her as well. Now that the little storm had passed, and she had released herself from some of her stress, it was time for the make up session.

Vegeta took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. The look in her eyes was unmistakable, it always meant the same one thing: desire. It was a habit of theirs to end things this way. He'd barely had the time to begin objecting when she ran to him and jumped him, making him hold her thighs securely as she straddled him. She kissed him fiercely, and he finally lost the will to reject her.

His lips instinctively dominated hers, and then moved to her neck, her shoulders, and soon also the rest of her body. A bundle of clothes graced the cold, white tiles as they became one against the control panel. They were not ridden by sheer lust, this was a farewell lovemaking triggered by the disheartening knowledge that they wouldn't see each other again for a long time. Every thrust was a squeeze to the heart, like they were slowly killing and dying respectively, in a dance that was both sweet and painful. It was full of unspoken words but still their pleasure sounds echoed in the circular room. Before it was over, their eyes connected, and a silent promise for more was made, a mutual agreement of an other reunion to come.

* * *

Bulma woke up on the bed of the living quarters of Capsule 3. She tried unsuccessfully to remember when she had gotten there in the first place, but it didn't matter anymore when she heard Vegeta's gruff voice in the distance.

"Get dressed and get the hell out of here."

She looked for him in the darkness. "Good morning to you, too."

He groaned exasperated. "How much longer are you going to lie there and steal my time?"

She sat up. "Hey, if I didn't know better I'd say you're getting rid of me after using me."

"Using you? You're constantly interrupting my training, you practically begged me to screw you, and you accuse me of using you?"

She gasped. "I didn't beg you, you bastard! But I still don't understand why you didn't want to do it."

How to explain that she, insatiable wench that she was, actually drained him? Now he wouldn't have the energy to train under the gravity level he had achieved earlier that week until he got some considerable sleep in. And how to explain to her, that now everything would be worse with her enthralling scent all over the place, making it next to impossible for him to concentrate on his workout until it dissipated?

"Because I still have to make up for the lost time." He exhaled heavily. "Just do me a favour and leave, Bulma. I have some place to go, remember?"

She'd noticed her previously discarded garments were at the other end of the bed, she picked them up and began dressing. "I'd rather you stayed here on Earth and trained wherever you'd like," she said softly.

"I need a place where I can release all my power without anyone telling me not to. I could destroy your little planet in seconds if I did it here."

"Hm. Well, you'll miss out on the pregnancy, Vegeta. Are you sure you won't regret it?"

"You and your mother have told me enough about what you'll be going through to make me have nightmares for months. I'm glad I'm leaving."

She hid her discomfort at his last statement and, once fully dressed, she walked to him and embraced him. "And I believe you have noticed by now that pregnant women have an increased sexual appetite. I mean, I'd be enjoying it more and I'd be asking you for more on a pretty frequent basis, if only you stayed," she teased, sealing her word with a tender peck.

Vegeta smirked. "Now that's a tempting offer. It's a pity I'll have to turn it down." Whatever spell she had cast on him would have to pause-not stop, but pause.

Bulma sighed in defeat. "You can't say I didn't try," she flashed him a melancholic smile. "At least I tricked you into having one last time with me," she winked, breaking the embrace and walking away.

He blinked. "You're delusional. It only happened because I wanted it," he discussed as he accompanied her to the exit.

"Yeah, right. Just admit I got one over you."

"Never."

She laughed.

They finally got to the doorway, and they knew it was time to part ways. It was inevitable.

She spoke first. "Don't overdo it, Vegeta." He rolled his eyes. "I mean it. I want you alive," she almost whispered as she leaned in for one final kiss. The gesture was welcome as she was once again wrapped in his embrace, his fingers caressing the small of her back, the curve of her waist, and finally resting on her soft stomach.

"Bulma..." he muttered.

"We'll take care," she answered knowingly what he couldn't ask.

He nodded his head. "Goodbye."

There it was. What she didn't want to hear. "Goodbye, Vegeta."

It physically hurt to walk away from him, to have to step out of the railing and back to the grass that was still shining with dew. She felt him enter the ship, and heard the gate begin to close as she turned around to catch the last glimpse of his image.

Vegeta walked to the control panel. He hesitated for a moment. He could still get out and tell her the truth. He had awoken with a start the first night he felt Yamcha closing in on Capsule Corporation. And from then on he had been always aware of the man's late visits to the gravity simulator. Why he never stopped him was beyond him, but Vegeta knew Yamcha's reasons to try the impossible. And he also knew he could have prevented all of this. It was not his intention to cause the displayer to malfunction, but he chose not to warn the younger warrior about it. If he was killed by his own decision to infringe in someone else's property, then it served him well. So should he tell her? She would probably hear it from her ex himself once she wished him back, though not before he hears her first. Vegeta could only imagine everything Bulma was going to scream at Yamcha for being so selfless. Too bad he'd miss it.

But now he would finally focus on his long deprived training. That blue eyed woman had stolen enough of his hours and it was time he went back to his activities. He would admit, though, she was worth every minute.

Bulma watched in silence as the engines of the spacecraft came to life. Beside her, seven orange wonders reflected the rays of the emerging sun, which were soon joined by a coffin she released from its capsule. Yamcha. If only he hadn't done such a stupidity, Vegeta would still probably be on Earth. She thought she'd made perfectly clear to him how much she was into Vegeta. That it wasn't just a fling as he believed. That she wasn't still quite sure of what it was, but she knew it was real. As real as the baby she was carrying, who's father had been around her for barely a few months, and still gave her everything her former boyfriend could not in over fifteen years. She loved the son of a bitch, and she had the impression that he would eventually develop the same feelings, if his ultimately change of disposition was any indication. The truth was going to hurt the sportsman, possibly even more than his recent death. But hell, she was hurt too, by his not taking her new relationship seriously.

She frowned, she was still pretty tired despite having just woken up. She was hungry too, she realized, and her nausea was coming back. She bit her bottom lip. Seeing Capsule 3 now in the air only added to her growing temper. She was a mother-to-be, damn it! And she needed Vegeta to be with her. She balled her fists and grumbled with a mixture of anger and frustration. There was only one person to blame for this.

"Fuck you, Yamcha!" she shouted as she furiously kicked the coffin at her feet, before retrieving to the house.

She would summon the dragon when, and if, she felt better.

The End


End file.
